


Darkness in the Light

by tofansesmuna



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/M, multiple OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:05:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofansesmuna/pseuds/tofansesmuna
Summary: Things were better now. The resurgence of Miss Robichaux's Academy brought in new life and new magic. Fiona was gone, so was Madison, Delphine; anyone who could leave a stain. Things were light now. It was just the tying things up left. Kyle had a lot of that to do now. All the new things set his head spinning. But Zoe was the same.





	Darkness in the Light

She looked like a queen. Standing at the base of the stairs on the first day of the entries, Cordelia in the center with Queenie on her right and Zoe on her left, all three of them looked royal. The light flowed in from the massive window behind them, and the winding staircases furled out on either side, giving them an air of holiness. Like Cordelia was an archangel, and Zoe was….an angel in the next level down from that but still really really important and pretty. 

Kyle was watching from the very back of the group of new girls, guarding over the piles of luggage in the adjacent parlor. It was going to take a lot of trips to get them all up to the second floor, but Cordelia had gently but firmly insisted on presenting the upmost professionalism from the very start. He was fine with that, though. He knew how to do that, so it was okay. It was the new stuff that gave him trouble. Like fastening the cufflinks on the sleeves of his new tailored coat, which, he believed, were highly unnecessary. Or remembering to take off his pristine white gloves before dealing with anything remotely dirty. 

He'd learned this the hard way when he was clipping the bushes out back and had transitioned to weed pulling before taking off his gloves. He'd rolled up his sleeves and felt immense satisfaction when the cufflinks had popped off, then plunged his bright white hands into the dark soil. 

“You have to be more aware,” Cordelia had chided him as she sunk his soiled gloves into a lemon rosemary solution. “I know,” Kyle muttered. At his frustrated tone, she looked up and pursed her lips. “Kyle,” she began, “What should your gloves always be?” He glanced sideways and back at her, wondering if this was a trick question.  
“...Clean?” Cordelia smiled.  
“Right! So what color should your gloves always be?”  
“White,” Kyle said, more certain now.  
“Good! So, when you're about to clean something, I want you to think of the word clean. And when you think clean, I want you to think of the word white. When you think of the word white, look at your hands, because your gloves are white. After you look at them and see your gloves, remind yourself to take them off.” Kyle nodded earnestly, trying to sear her words into his head for later. 

He looked down at his hands now. They were still spotless, even after touching all the dusty suitcases. He's been doing more of those lately. Cordelia calls them associations. Using one easy to grasp word and consciously leading it to another related thought, and so on and so on, til you remember what you want to remember.  
“White,” he mumbled, still looking at his hands. The girl closest to him turned around when he said it, just as he looked up. When they made eye contact her head whipped back toward the front. He swallowed thickly as a twitchy heat filled his cheeks. His hands clenched so tight they shook. 

Stupid, he thought. You sounded stupid. Throughout Cordelia’s welcoming speech he had zoned out, but was brought back when Cordelia’s clear voice said, “Over near the front door you'll see Kyle. He’ll escort you upstairs. Hopefully you all have followed my request and tagged your bags accordingly. We've already marked your assigned beds with a placard, so when you find it, please leave it in place so he's able to find you when he brings you your bags. If you have any questions, feel free to ask him, or ask for me or either of your council representatives. Kyle,” she nodded and smiled over at him. He returned the nod and sidestepped the girls ahead of him, making his way to the front of the group. He quickly lifted his gaze to address the crowd, “Follow me,” after half a second he added, “Please.” 

As he turned, he made split second eye contact with Zoe. A little smile instantly rose on his face. She reciprocated with glittering eyes and a quick wink. He managed to only have two awkward half starts toward her before taking the next step up the curving staircase. Each step was made conciously, in an attempt to not drop the four bulky suitcases under his arms and topple down the stairs like an idiot. He was so concentrated on the steps in front of him that he almost missed the breathy voice below him, “Lord, he's a pretty one, isn't he?” His head cocked to the side, and he almost paused, but forced himself to continue walking. Another voice giggled in a weird hissy way, “Ssh, shut up. I think he heard you.” Eyebrows scrunched together in consideration. In his stomach, something twisted a bit. And it didn't feel good. 

But he kept climbing until he reached the top step, and took a glance downward to make sure they weren't too far behind. Satisfied, he turned back around and continued a little while down the hall until they reached a door. Shifting the suitcases in his grasp, he turned the knob and opened to a large, well lit hall. Well… “hall” is what Zoe called it, but it didn't really look like a hall to him. Something in his gut, he didn't know what is was, kept telling him that halls were supposed to be skinny and claustrophobic; and for some reason his head supplied a persistent image of rectangular panels of bright white light and shiny, plastic-y floors. This “hall” in comparison was wide and high-ceilinged, the tall windows along the opposite wall filling the room with sheets of filmy natural light. He didn't know what the other image was, so he shook it off. 

As he entered, he turned around and addressed the group accumulating outside the doorway, “Please find the bed with your name placard and wait in here until you have your luggage.” Before letting them in, he awkwardly set down the suitcases in his arms and fumbled with the tag, “Hallie Clark?” he called.  
“Here!” a small voice chirped from the back. A hand was raised fervently in the air, but no head was visible. Short, thought Kyle.  
“I have your things.” A collective tittering ensued as the girl tried to force her way to the front. She finally emerged, tiny and triumphant. She had shoulder length frizzy hair, with a bony nose and a nervous smile. Kyle nodded and stepped out of the doorway, shuffling the luggage along with him. 

When no one came inside he leaned over, head popping out from behind the doorframe and looked at the girls for a second, “....You can come in now.” There was a moment of silence, before a girl hesitantly stepped inside. 

The rest followed her until it was a steady flow, and the sound of chatter resumed. Kyle waited beside the door until the last few girls trickled in before popping his head out again to make sure everyone had gotten in. He started out to go back downstairs, but stopped when he glanced behind him and saw the small girl, Hallie, struggling to lift all four of her suitcases at once. He paused, then slowly walked over to her. “Do you want some help?” he asked. She looked up fast like she'd just noticed him, then looked back down at her bags, then back up at him. She coughed. “Um, yeah. Yeah, that would be great,” she waddled a couple of steps towards him, allowing him to transfer two bags under each arm. 

He stood up easily, but stopped when he saw her looking at his arms. She sighed sadly, “God, I'm so weak.” He didn't really know how to respond to that, so he said the first thing that came to mind, “Well, you're short, so…” Wait, I don't think that was right. “Not that...short people, it’s just...I mean-” his mouth opened, then closed. His brow furrowed. An intense concentration came over him, searching his mind for a cohesive phrase or thought that could possibly tie up the one he started. But after a few moments, he realized frustratedly, he had forgotten what the one he had started with was. 

It seemed like forever before he finally mumbled, embarrassed, “Nevermind.” He began walking down the row of beds before turning back to add, “Sorry.” Manners, Kyle. He was a bit surprised to find the girl staring at him again. She does that a lot, he thought. He was more surprised when a smile broke out on her face. “You're fine,” she said, “Your face was just funny.” She stepped up beside him and the two walked together down the row. The growing noise of young witches talking and greeting each other drowned out his baffled, “Oh...okay.”


End file.
